


Contact

by YankeesGirl28



Series: Interaction [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YankeesGirl28/pseuds/YankeesGirl28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or five times Jake wants his partner to say something and the one time she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contact

Day One

To say it’s been a weird day would be an understatement.

First, Holt helped you lead an off-book investigation that included, but wasn’t limited to, having the other members of the Nine-Nine stall your disciplinary hearing, flirting with a female judge, and somehow winning the amateur dance competition while you broke into an office.

Then there was the whole getting fired thing, which was terrifying until it got awesome with an undercover assignment. It’s not that you didn’t trust Holt, because you do. It’s just when you said you were freaking out, you meant it.

And then there was the super-minor detail of you confessing your would-be feelings for your amazing partner who also had your back the entire day, and, let’s face it, most of your career, even though she has a loving boyfriend (gag) and you’re going undercover for six months.

Minor whoops.

Her face as you forced the words out of your mouth is burned into your memory for possibly the rest of time. The way her face softened and her brown eyes searched your face for any indication you were kidding, that this was some grand Jake Peralta joke she can remember you by when she’s stuck at stakeouts with Charles.

(In all honesty, you don’t think you’ve ever been more serious in your life.)

You meant what you said. You’d be mad at yourself if this was the last time she saw you and she never realized that beneath all the teasing, behind the ‘worst date ever,’ and the sex tape jokes, she’s your best friend. Is it really so unbelievable that you would sort of like her?

Sometimes, you think the fact that she needs to be the best is not because she has enough brothers to play a game of basketball with two guys on the bench, but rather her self-confidence issues. She tries to prove she’s the best because at the end of the day, she believes she’s the worst.

That’s why you’re not going out of your way to break her and Teddy up and choosing instead to just yearn from afar like Charles did for so many years with Rosa. Amy deserves to be happy, and if it’s not with you, then that’s cool. Great, even. But you don’t want to have any regrets if things go sideways, so you tell her in the most you-ish way possible that you have ‘feelingz’ for her.

It’s not until you’re halfway blitzed out of your mind at the bar later that night that you realize she didn’t say a single word as you made your hasty retreat.

Huh.

 

Day Fifty-Three

The agent assigned to your case thankfully tells you it’s ok to keep in contact with Gina, considering you’ve been friends since you were children. You mostly text about unimportant things: reality shows, the guys she’s meeting in bars, Holt’s new addiction to 2048. Neither of you mention the fact that you were fired and are now, what she believes, unemployed.

You’re sitting on the couch catching up on Big Brother and going over the day when a text.

‘Teddy bear broke up with Amy. Would getting her drunk help?’

You sit up quickly as you stare at the words. He broke up with her? He does realize her shampoo smells like strawberries and she likes rocky road ice cream and she’s essentially the perfect woman, right? Why on Earth would someone want to break up with Amy Santiago?

(Secretly, a part of you is glad she had one more breakup left after all.)

You refuse to address these thoughts and the seriousness that goes with them, as you try to formulate a good response. Questions swim through your mind, but you know better than to ask Gina. Instead, you’d rather have heard the news from Amy so you could hear what’s going on straight from the source.

Before you can contemplate the fact that your partner didn’t reach out to tell you herself, protocol be damned, a new text from Gina arrives.

‘Oh, and I slept with Charles and Rosa hates me.”

Apparently there are bigger problems to worry about.

 

Day Seventy-Eight  
“Are you too good to talk to me, or do you just not speak English? ¿No hablas inglés?” You inwardly wince as you shout these words at Rosa, knowing damn well if you weren’t undercover, she’d punch you in the face so hard you’d swallow all your teeth. 

The job was supposed to be a simple, just stealing on of the cars from an impound lot. Arnold, the boss of the Iannuci family, gave you a crew of three guys, none of whom were probably over the age of twenty-two. It was a test for you, and you realize that now. Jesse, the youngest, managed to bungle disarming the alarm, and you had just enough time to push them all over the fence and send them running before the police showed up. You had hoped and prayed to every god out there that it wouldn’t be a member of the Nine-Nine who responded to the call, even though you were well within the jurisdiction.

When Rosa, one of the few friends you have from the academy, showed up in all her leather glory, you sighed in resignation. It turns out someone up there really hates you.

As she approached, you tapped your watch, a gift from your new friends. You have no doubt that it’s probably bugged, but you can’t take it apart to find out. Thankfully Rosa caught your eye and played along the entire ride back to the precinct. Once you arrived and saw the holding cell was full of informants for the Iannucis, you allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes compose yourself before you started shouting obscene things at one of the people you consider family while everybody looks on.

When Rosa shoves you into the holding cell, you manage to catch the hurt look in her eyes. Gina’s partially filled you in on the blowout between her, Boyle and Rosa a month after you left, so you know you’re not completely responsible, but it still hurts.

After nodding at a few of the criminals you have become too familiar with in the past two and a half months, you take in the place you used to call home. It still looks the same and, thanks to Hitchcock’s favorite egg salad sandwich, smells the same, but it just doesn’t feel the same. Something’s off. The narcissist in you wants you say it’s because you’ve been gone, but as you take in the somber atmosphere, you realize that might actually be the reason. It’s far too quiet, nobody’s laughing at each other, and the chemistry just isn’t there anymore.

You thank your lucky stars Gina is nowhere to be found, as you wouldn’t want her to see you like this. Boyle’s hard at work as ever, except he’s turned his chair away from Rosa so she’s not in his sightline at all. Hitchcock and Scully are doing whatever it is they’ve been doing ever since you got there.

Terry and Holt are standing in the doorway of the captain’s office, conferring too quietly for you to hear, but you can see both of them studying you intensely. You give Holt a smirk; one you hope comes off to everyone else in the cell as a ‘screw you’ to authority. You have to stop yourself before you let out a scream of joy when he returns to expression. He has missed you.

Finally, your eyes stop on the one person you’ve wanted to see the most since you left. Your heart lurches when you find Amy’s looking right at you. You can tell she’s examining you from the safety of her desk, probably mentally cataloging any changes that might have occurred while you’ve been gone. Gina’s mentioned she’s been working long hours lately, and you can now confirm it after seeing the bags under your partner’s eyes, even half a room away.

You want to smile at her, but you’re not an idiot. Boyle has pointed out on multiple occasions you have a specific Amy Santiago smile, and it’s not one that will go unnoticed by your current roommates. Instead, you wink at her, mentally fist-pumping as she blushes before pulling out your phone and typing out a coded apology to Rosa’s undercover phone. Once the message sends, you don’t hesitate to send another text to a number not stored in your phone, but one you’ve had memorized for a long time. 

(Seeing her smile is the best thing that’s happened in the past few months.)

Holt calls her into his office before she has a chance to respond, and someone comes to retrieve you while she’s still in there. When you make it back to the Iannuci house, Arnold’s waiting for you along with the rest of the crew. For a split second, you’re worried he’s going to chastise you for allowing yourself to get caught, but instead he shakes your hand and thanks you for protecting the family. You smile and tell him that’s your job, silently enjoying the double meaning.

The feeling ends abruptly when he puts a bullet between the eyes of the kid who didn’t disable the alarm correctly.

 

Day Eighty-Five  
Ever since your arrest and witnessing your first execution, you’ve gotten some sort of promotion. You’re sitting in on planning meetings, everyone runs ideas by you before they attempt anything, and Arnold’s had you over for dinner at his house almost every night. If you were actually a criminal, this would be your dream come true, but the day this assignment ends can’t come soon enough.

Arnold’s started offering you girls. You don’t need to check their IDs to know they’re under eighteen. When he send them home with you, you let them drink as much alcohol as it takes to get them tipsy enough so you can tuck them into bed and sleep on the couch for the night. So far no one’s been the wiser, but the whole thing makes you feel like shit.

The one bright side of the new ‘perks’ is that you’re now allowed in ‘the business office.’ Leo gives you his personal password to the computer and as soon as the door shuts you’re pulling files onto a flash drive. You cover your tracks by labeling the file ‘Leo’s Tunes’ and complimenting him on his ACDC collection.

When you get home that night, you tell the FBI you need to make an info drop. The tell you, in code, that a member of the Nine-Nine will be showing up under the guise of being concerned about your arrest, and for the first time in months, your shoulders feel a bit lighter. After all, who in the precinct would be more concerned about your downward spiral than Miss Santiago?

(A part of you doesn’t want her to come, just to keep her out of sight, but the selfish part wants nothing more than to see her smiling face.)

Even though you understand the reasoning, it doesn’t hurt any less when you open the door to see Terry standing there instead. Your shoulders drop as you lean against the doorframe and wait for the inevitable hug to come, so you can palm the flash drive into his coat pocket.

The plans change suddenly when Terry tells him Santiago’s worried. Yes, you figured that, but when he tells you she wouldn’t forgive you if you let yourself continue like this, you lose it. You’re trying your best to be a standup guy in the world you were thrust into, and the sergeant has the nerve to say Santiago wouldn’t understand that?

So you punch him. You think you’ve broken your hand, but you punch him. He grabs his face and steps back, seemingly getting a good look at you for the first time since arriving. You see his pained expression and imagine it on Amy’s face and it all becomes too much. You turn on your heel and slam the door behind you. 

You don’t let out the breath you’d been holding until you put a bag of frozen peas on your hand and remember that you managed to tuck the flash drive into Terry’s shirt pocket when you grabbed him. Hopefully this will all be over soon so you can beg for his forgiveness.

(And also hers.)

 

Day One Hundred and Ninety-Three  
You spot Amy as soon as she walks through the door.

It’s not like there was any effort involved, seeing as she looks as awkwardly out of place as possible. You can tell Gina picked the club and Rosa probably forced her in to the tight black dress currently hugging her curves. You miss her hair up in a ponytail as opposed to the curled mess it currently is, but right now, you’ll settle for just getting to see her face.

You’re trapped in the VIP section surrounded by men who wear suits you couldn’t afford in three years and girls who should be at junior prom instead of stuck here with you. You nod along as Leo talks about the drug market and how a message needs to be sent to some of the street dealers when Amy finds you. 

She’s talking to some guy who’s been buying her drinks all night when she looks up and locks eyes with you. It takes her ten seconds to end the conversation and walk briskly to the bathroom. You wait until Rosa and Gina are thoroughly distracted trying to figure out what the guy did before you excuse yourself.

Amy’s the only person in the three-stall ladies room. You pull the door shut behind you and click the small lock in place. You crack a lame joke about a sex tape name (not your best by a long shot,) but she laughs and turns around. She doesn’t school her features fast enough, and you can tell she’s taken aback by your appearance. You stopped looking in mirrors so long ago you don’t even know what you must look like to her.

She crying and it takes everything in your willpower to not do the same. You tentatively step toward her, afraid that at any given moment you might spook her. When you’ve closed the gap to a foot, you reach out and put your hands on her shoulders, much like the last time you danced, when you were still afraid to touch her.

She’s sobbing harder now and you curse the torture you’re about to inflict on yourself. You wrap your hands around her waist and pull her tight against your chest.

(Her hair still smells like strawberries.)

All too soon, you have to step back or you’ll never leave the rest room. There’s a window in the corner you both could jump out and make a run for it. The thought’s all too tempting, so instead you tell her everything’s almost done and make a hasty exit.

You don’t say I’ll see you soon, because you don’t want to make promises you can’t keep.

 

Day Two Hundred and Fifty-One  
When you open your eyes, you see nothing but white. For a few moments you think you’re dead and you’re completely ok with it.

It’s not until a few seconds later that you hear a soft snore next to you that you realize you’re actually staring up at a hospital room ceiling. You look down and see a familiar colorful blanket covering your body and the scars you know now litters it.

(The next time the FBI comes knocking at your door, you’re going to tell them to go fuck themselves.)

The entire room has balloons and flowers spread around. There’s a beautiful bouquet of colored daisies sitting on the other side of your bed. You crane your neck with as little effort as you can to get a look at the card. You snort when you realize it’s from Kevin and Holt.

The sound is loud enough that it wakes the person sleeping beside you. You turn to find a bleary-eyed Amy Santiago staring back at you. Suddenly, you wish you could take back the whole ‘ok with death,’ thought because she’s looking at you with tears in her eyes and it breaks your heart. You wish you could crack a joke to lighten the mood but you haven’t done that is so long you’re out of practice.

Instead, you take a breath with the intention of apologizing, but you realize quite abruptly there’s a tube in your throat blocking the words and you throw yourself into a minor panic attack. She’s on her feet helping calm you down as the nurses and doctors flood in to run some tests. She stands close enough that you can always feel her presence in the room and it relaxes you enough that you allow the nurses to check your vitals while the doctor looks at the wounds. You sneak a look down at your stomach and almost throw up. The two stray bullets that managed to get you left a mess in their wake, leaving your stomach a map of stitches and scars.

Amy seems to sense your thoughts and reaches for your hand.

“It’s ok, Jake. I’m right here,” she says. “I’m going to be right here.”

That’s all you need to hear. You release the sobs caught in your throat as Amy strokes her thumb over the knuckles and the nurse sets up a morphine drip. Amy’s soft features are the last thing you see before you fall asleep again.

 

 

The Days That Follow

The first time you laugh in a long time comes two weeks after being discharged from the hospital. 

Amy came over immediately after her shift and started making some of the potato soup she knows you love while you’re in the living room going through your Netflix queue. You pick through the mail she tossed on the coffee table, a mix of hers and yours, when you find an official envelope from the FBI. You don’t bother to look at the person it’s addressed to before tearing it open. You’re hoping it’s a huge check or the promise of a new car in thanks for your service, but instead you find a letter addressing Miss Amy Santiago, asking for an official apology for the physical assault on one of the agents.

Amy looks up from the pot on the stove when you enter the kitchen holding the letter. She handles you the ladle to stir the soup as she skims the page, a flush creeping up her neck as she gets closer to the bottom.

When she finally mumbles an explanation about how she punched one of the agents assigned to you when he spoke about you in past tense, you get a nice visual of angry Santiago and can’t control yourself.

A few seconds of disbelief later, Amy joins in with tears in her eyes.

 

Even two months later, you’re not sleeping well. 

Every time you close your eyes, there’s a different scenario playing out. Arnold shooting Jesse at pointblank range, Lizzie being sent home with her first customer with fear in her eyes, a drug dealer being forced to overdose on his own product. 

You still wake up during the nights you and Amy fall asleep on the couch together. You don’t move, in fear that she might wake up, and instead just study her features. Seeing her this peaceful calms your demons enough that they allow you to drift back out of consciousness.

 

You rejoin the Nine-Nine two weeks later to open arms. Charles squeezes you until you think your lungs might pop and Rosa smiles and gives you a punch on the arm. Terry shakes your hand in a way that tells you there are no hard feelings, and Holt even brings a cake Kevin made just for the occasion.

You can feel Amy’s eyes on you during the day. She doesn’t prod you into talking about things, but she makes sure you know she still trust you with her life.

Nights fall into a similar routine. They ride back to your place together, you either order in or she makes dinner, and then you watch television and talk about anything and nothing. The only difference is, you actually make it to bed together before falling asleep.

Your nightmares get worse, but she stays.

 

Your absolute low point comes three weeks later. The situation of the nightmare is the same, but this time the victim is Amy. Amy getting shot in the head, Amy being dragged away by some meathead, Amy getting heroin pumped into her veins as she cries out in agony and there’s nothing you can do about it.

That night, you jump out of bed and run down the stairs before she can register you’re gone. You hop out the window to the fire escape and climb up onto the roof. Only then do you allow yourself to scream.

She arrives a few minutes later, carrying coffee and an Avengers blanket Gina made you after the truth of what you had been through came out. She sits beside you and doesn’t say a word as you cry into her shoulder. She deserves so much better than you can give her.

You realize you’ve said this out loud when she snaps at you. She tells you in a voice that is not to be argued with that she’s here because she wants to be, that this is her life and if she wants to spend it with you than she damn well will and there’s nothing you can do that will push her away.

You respond by slanting your lips across hers. You’d gladly go through another year of hell if it meant getting to kiss Amy Santiago at sunrise.

 

You start seeing a counselor a week later. If she’s in this, you’re in this. 

 

Another month later, it becomes clear your apartment was not meant to house two people. You’re not even sure when you two started living together, but all the evidence is there. Her clothes spill out of the dresser and your combined movie collection threatens to flood the living room. You know her lease expires soon, and Gina’s given you permission to walk out at any time.

At dinner one night you slide the brochure of an apartment building you checked out earlier. When you tell her you dipped into your slightly heavy savings to put down the deposit, her smile threatens to split her face in half.

 

You ask her out for an official first date two months later. 

She wears the red dress she wore to Holt’s birthday and you don’t even make it out the apartment door.

You eat Ben and Jerry’s on the floor of the kitchen at 3 AM and tell her it’s the best date you’ve never been on. She kisses you and tells you the same.

 

A year later, 825 days after you received the dreaded assignment and confessed your feelings (yes, with an s this time) for your partner, the Iannuci case is closed.

Celebratory drinks at the bar turn into Rosa leading a Spanish Inquisition into your relationship so every bet that had been made on you and Amy could be paid to the correct person. Unsurprisingly, Holt cleans up.

When you finally make it home, she takes off her shirt and jeans while she roots around in the dresser to find her pajamas, humming a familiar tune. You lean against the doorframe and take in the sight. She finally looks up in, surprised to find you there.

“Is everything ok?” she asks, giving you her best deer in the headlights impression.

You cross the room in quick strides before cupping your hand around the back of her head and kissing her. You break the kiss and press your forehead against hers.

“I love you,” you whisper in the darkness of the room.

You can see the coy smile cross her face. “I know,” she replies. 

You laugh and kiss her again. When you break apart this time, she repeats the words back to you.

 

You propose three months later. 

 

Holt gives you all his winnings as a wedding gift six months down the road.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for your kind words and kudos. I would have never been able to finish this story without them.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> writergirl28 . tumblr . com


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